


My Sweetheart the Drunk

by newsoftheworld



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: College era brian, Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Wholesome, for all those with a sweet-tooth craving, late 60s, major fluff, roger is chaotic as usual, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:09:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24333370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsoftheworld/pseuds/newsoftheworld
Summary: The cold winter air is a shock to your warm skin, drawing a gasp from your throat as you step outside. You pull Brian around the corner of the building in an attempt to avoid the frosty wind. He wobbles on his feet, putting out an arm out to press against the brick wall.“I think you’re a lot more drunk than you say you are, Mr. May.” Your vision is cloudy and your senses are on fire: Brian’s hands slide up your sides and rest on your cheeks.
Relationships: Brian May & Reader, Brian May/Original Female Character(s), Brian May/You
Kudos: 16





	My Sweetheart the Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a one-shot for Nikki - I hope it's everything you wanted (and maybe more??) <333

The doorbell rings. Turning away from your mirror, lipstick in hand, you shout, “Just a minute, Jo!” Returning to the task at hand, you carefully line your pale lips in a deep red. Normally you’d opt for something more subtle, but tonight is cause for extravagance and celebration: your first term as a college student has finally come to a close. This meant that going for drinks with friends––including your boyfriend, Brian––was a must.

"Oh, do hurry up!” Your friend’s voice is shrill through the flimsy material of your front door. Huffing quietly, you dab at your lips with a piece of paper and look yourself over.  _ Not bad, not bad.  _ The curls in your hair are beginning to soften, but the walk to the pub is sure to do some damage, anyway. Snatching your wallet from the cluttered bathroom sink, you smooth out your plaid skirt and half-walk half-run to the door. The window pane is frosty, teasing at an imminent snowfall, and the doorknob is cold to the touch.  _ Insolation my ass.  _ Opting for a heavy fur coat, you pull it over your shoulders and swing the door wide open.

“Jo!” Grinning at her testy expression, you take note of your friend’s rosy cheeks. “Ready to go, then?” 

Her blonde eyebrows shoot to her hairline and her hands grip her hips. Before she can get a word in, you laugh and grab her hand. “Only joking!”

“Don’t test me. You’ve already made me wait long enough out here––it’s bloody freezing!” Grumbling good-naturedly, she pulls the door shut and leads the way down the sidewalk. “The boys’ll have been there for an hour at least. I told Roger we’d be there at 8:30, though, and it’s already nine… and you know how he gets.”

Groaning, you nod. Roger, Jo’s boyfriend, has a reputation for being a lightweight. The man drinks half his paycheck most months, and yet somehow can’t hold his liquor for all the tea in England. You and Roger butt heads often, but he’s growing on you: since becoming friends with Jo,  _ and _ going steady with Brian, Roger has become a routine part of life. “I’m sure Brian is watching out for him well enough.”

“If there’s anyone I trust to look after Roger, it’s Bri. He’s the only one with any self-control.” Jo rolls her eyes, swinging her hand in yours as you walk. The streetlights are dim, lighting the frosty ground in a pale yellow. Pulling your collar tight around your neck, you feel your nerves start to get the better of you. It’s only been a month of dating Brian, but you’ve never seen him drink. This means that the chances of making a complete fool of yourself tonight are high, much higher than you’re okay with. 

“D’you think I look alright, Jo? 

Jo scoffs. “ _ Alright? _ You look absolutely smashing, and don’t let yourself think otherwise. Really!” She squeezes your hand. “Don’t worry––you have nothing to be nervous about. I know you really like Brian, but I promise you––he really,  _ really _ likes you.” Winking conspiratorially, she leads you across the street.

“Thanks, it means a lot. I just don’t want to embarrass myself, y’know?” Muffled music gets louder as you approach the pub at the end of the block: it sounds full. Very full.

“Here, I’ll tell you what.I’ll take one for the team if things end up going  _ really _ poorly––spill a drink down my dress, something like that.” Hauling open the heavy wooden door, Jo steps back and motions for you to enter the pub. Ducking your head and stepping into the humid room, you immediately take note of the rowdy group of college students on the dancefloor.

“Looks like you might not need to,” you laugh, pointing toward the mass of writhing bodies. “Seems like everyone’s planning on getting shitfaced this evening.”

Standing on her tip-toes, Jo scans the crowded room for a moment. “Ah hah! Here, come with me––it looks like the boys are in a booth near the bar.” 

Sure enough, you spot the familiar bundle of black curls nestled between Roger and Tom. Tom, Brian’s rather nerdy, albeit sweet, best friend from physics class, is the archetypal shy-type. Zig-zagging behind Jo, you catch Brian’s eye––you can’t keep the idiotic smile from your face when his eyes noticably light up. 

“There you are!” Clamoring over Tom in his attempt to get to you, Brian stumbles on the edge of the table before making his rather ungraceful way into your arms. His hug takes you by surprise, your arms staying at your sides for a moment before returning the gesture. His body is warm against yours: you can hear the thump of his heart through his navy jacket.

“Good to see you, too, Bri.” Your voice vibrates against his chest and you smile. Releasing you to hold you at arms’ length, Brian grins sheepishly.

“Sorry for the ambush, it’s just great to see your face.”

Dropping your eyes to the floor, you giggle quietly. “It’s good to see yours, too. I hope it’s alright we’re a bit late.” 

Nodding vigorously, Brian shoves his hands into his pockets. “The boys and I have only been here ‘bout an hour. Had a couple drinks, y’know.” 

“A couple, eh?” Smirking at Brian’s obvious drunkenness, you notice that Jo’s already made herself comfortable at the booth. You place your hand gently on Brian’s elbow. “Shall we sit?”

“Yes, yes, of course. After you.”

The smell of alcohol on his breath is not subtle, and you wonder if his use of the phrase “a couple” is a gross underestimation. Or perhaps he’s even more of a lightweight than you anticipated. You’d never seen him quite like this, but with the way his eyes followed your every move, you’re  _ more _ than okay with it.

“Brian! Be a lad and get your girl a drink, why don’t ya?” Roger, white-blonde hair sticking out from all sides, roars from the back of the booth. His arm is around Jo and he’s chuckling, blue eyes watery with inhibition. “Don’t leave her high and dry.”

Ducking his head, Brian glances at you. “Right. Gin and tonic okay with you?”

Shrugging your coat from your shoulders, you nod. Watching him make his way to the bar, you marvel at just how much his gait resembles that of a newborn foal.

“Quick, take a hit of this while he’s gone.” A blunt is shoved in your face, extended from across the table; courtesy of Roger.  _ Typical. _ Smirking, you take it from his fingers and bring it to your lips. The smoke fills your lungs easily and you relax against the padded seat, your brain beginning to buzz. “But don’t let him catch you smokin’ it––our Brian hasn’t ever been too keen on the devil’s lettuce.”

“Why’s that?” Taking another drag, you feel the nerves in your stomach unwind. 

Tom, yet to say a word, chimes in. “He had a bad trip once, in grammar school. Scared him, it did.”

Eying Tom carefully, you recognize the dilation in his pupils: if he’s talking to you, he must be several beers deep. “Makes sense. I don’t make it a habit to smoke, anyway––” You pass the blunt back to Roger. “––but I do enjoy it on occasion.”

Wrapping an arm around Jo’s back, Roger conceals the blunt beneath the table. “And what an occasion this is! A well-deserved break from all that bloody coursework. You birds have it easy, y’know.” Putting on a cockney accent, Roger continues. “Literature students will never know the woes of budding scientists. It isn’t easy training to become a genius.”

Jo hits Roger softly across the chest. “Oh, please! You spend half your lectures bumming about, doodling in the margins of your textbooks and flirting with anyone who’ll listen.” She kisses him on the cheek for good measure.

“Here we are.” Looking up, you see Brian standing over you with a drink in each hand. “I took the liberty of getting two, just in case you wanted another. Otherwise, I can have it.” He slips into the booth beside you, his thigh coming to rest comfortably against yours. Brain feeling a bit fuzzy, you lean against him and take a drink from his hands.

“Thank you, Bri.” The gin burns your stomach deliciously. 

“Say!” Roger sits up suddenly, knocking an empty beer bottle to the ground. “We should try our hands at a game of darts.” He points to the back corner of the room: sure enough, a dart board hangs, unoccupied, on the wall. “Boys against girls, how ‘bout it?” Rubbing his hands together, he looks around the booth. “Hm?”

You glance at Brian. He’s looking down at you, a slight smile on his lips and a dusting of pink across his cheeks. “D’you reckon I’ll beat you?” you tease, nudging your boyfriend between the ribs. 

Eyebrows raised, Brian shakes his head solemnly. “Not a chance.” He tugs you with him as he gets up and nearly topples over when you lean against him for support. Giggling, you clutch the lapels of his jacket to steady him.

“Careful. You’ll need a steady hand if you want to beat me.”

“‘M fine, really.” Brian lifts his hands in surrender, still rocking in place. “I’ve got it under control.”

You have to stifle your laughter as he walks––staggers––to the dartboard.

***

  
“Okay, okay––this one’s for the win!” Eyes wide, Brian’s tongue slips out of his mouth as he focuses on the board.

You and Jo lean against the bar, unable to keep your laughter under control. Roger, absolutely unhinged, is squatting on the floor beside Brian: his hands are clasped together and he’s whispering something––a prayer, perhaps.

The only one left standing properly, Tom steadies Brian’s shoulders with his hands. “Alright Bri, break the tie now, c’mon.” 

“There’s no way in hell he’s making it,” Jo whispers into your ear. You take a sip of your fourth––fifth?––mixed drink and shrug, silent in your agreement.

Taking a deep breath, Brian closes his eyes briefly and clutches the dart to his chest. Suddenly, he pulls his arm back and rockets the dart forward full-force. It might’ve been a good technique if he’d been aiming properly, but the dart sails from his fingertips long before it’s meant to, imbedding itself instead in the ceiling above the bar countertop. You clap your hands to your mouth, eyes wide in disbelief as the bartenders look wildly around for the source of the projectile. 

Tom is beside himself with laughter, collapsing against the wall as he tries to hold himself together. “How in God’s name––”

Jo drops down to tend to Roger, who is now rolling on the ground, moaning, “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it…”

Brian looks to you, his face so distraught and downtrodden that you immediately rush to his side to engulf him in a hug. “Oh, Brian! It’s okay, you did your best.” It’s difficult to sound serious when all you want to do is laugh.

His hands find your waist and steady you against him. “I really thought, I mean, I was certain I had it. Roger distracted me.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the pouting in his voice.  _ What an absolute baby. _ Squeezing him tighter, you rub his back with one hand in an attempt to console him. 

“Oy!” A gruff voice interrupts the mayhem. Stepping away from Brian, your eyes lazily focus on the source of the voice. A man, taller than Brian (who knew it was possible?) with a beard to his chest, stands at the edge of the bar, a stern look at his face. “I’m not tolerating any more tomfoolery: if I see another dart so much as  _ graze _ this woodwork, I’ll have each and every one of you hauled out and fined. Y’hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”  _ Thank god for Tom. _

Frowning pointedly, the man retreats behind the bar. Jo pulls Roger to his feet, trying her best to comb his hair into a presentable fashion. “It’s probably best for us to go, it’s already midnight, anyway.” 

“Noooooo.” Roger holds onto Jo for support, gesturing back toward the dartboard. “We still have our manliness to prove. I have a reputation to uphold!”

You look up at Brian, willing him to agree with Jo. Fatigue is beginning to creep up on you and you want a little bit of time with Brian before the night is over.

Luckily, he seems to be on the same page. “We should go, Rog. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Ruffling your hair absentmindedly, Brian follows you to the exit, careening dangerously close to several inebriated dancers. You aren’t sure whether the other three are following the two of you, but your mind only has room for thoughts of Brian… and what you’d like to do once you get him alone.

The cold winter air is a shock to your warm skin, drawing a gasp from your throat as you step outside. You pull Brian around the corner of the building in an attempt to avoid the frosty wind. He wobbles on his feet, putting out an arm out to press against the brick wall.

“I think you’re a lot more drunk than you say you are, Mr. May.” Your vision is cloudy and your senses are on fire: Brian’s hands slide up your sides and rest on your cheeks.

“Mmm.” Eyes lidded, he rests his forehead on yours. The warmth is returning to your body, thanks to the heat emanating from his skinny frame. “‘S possible.” His thumb drags across your cheekbone, rendering you breathless.

“Kiss me?”

His lips are on yours before you can get the words out––he’s soft, warm, tender. You dig your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck, silently pleading him to kiss you deeper. But he breaks away instead, gasping for air.

“S-sorry.” Blushing, he laughs nervously. “My heart’s beating too fast for my lungs to function.”

Overcome with adoration, you pull him to you. He hums and rests his chin on your head: a perfect fit. You stand there for a while together, your bodies swaying gently with the rhythm of the night. You feel safe, happy, loved; tucked beneath his arm and sheltered by his embrace.

Brian presses gentle kisses to the top of your head. “So… What if you stayed the night at my place?”


End file.
